The Race
by blindspottedllama
Summary: [Jeller] Kurt joins Jane in entering the Bureau 10K. Who will win?
1. Chapter 1

Peace lived in the sunshine, her thoughts free to flow about the breeze. As soon as Spring got warm enough, Jane spent time most days running outside. Each route she took offered different escapes: trees, architectures, the early buds of flowers.

Cold rain provided cleansing, her stresses washing off in rivulets tinged with salt. Some days she took an extra lap past the apartment, needing a bit more time to rearrange her headspace. Once she'd picked up the pieces and found the sun, she'd go home to a warm shower.

When she ran in the morning, her husband had often fixed her breakfast by the time she emerged. This morning, coffee and peanut buttered rice cakes were waiting for her. "Thank you," she shared, kissing his temple and sitting beside him at the breakfast bar.

She devoured the rice cakes, hit with a bout of runger. Kurt smiled, glad to bring her joy through the simple act of making her food. "You know, I've been thinking about something," he shared.

After a sip of her coffee, she asked, "What's that?"

His hand brushed her knee. "Seeing you out running now that it's nice enough - I want to get back in better shape."

She didn't have any complaints, yet she supposed that wasn't for her to decide. If that's what he wanted, she would offer encouragement. "Want to run the Bureau 10K with me?"

He considered the prospect. "Sure."

She provided additional incentive. "It's really refreshing out now, and we can get our runs together back."

Thinking of another aspect, he tickled her side. "I'll race ya."

Her smirk carried to her eyes, meeting his. "There's no way you're beating me."

He grinned in return. "We'll see."

* * *

Starting more consistent running was…difficult. It was an experience Kurt had been through several times before, yet his legs were freshly sore again and his mind attempted to convince him he couldn't possibly run another half mile. He didn't know how far they would be running, and he was curious how much he had signed up for. Lacing his sneakers near the door, he asked, "Is there a plan of how many miles to run every day?"

Jane shrugged. "I try to keep it ad hoc. We'll keep upping a long run on the weekend, yet the rest can be based on how we feel."

He tended to like a little bit more of a plan. "I want to know what I'm getting into."

Grabbing her phone from the counter, she held it out to him. "You can look at my Strava history."

He took the phone, skimming through the activities. "You went running when we were on that mission in Argentina?"

"I thought you were looking at distance." His eyebrow raise foretold she wasn't getting out of the conversation that easily. "I run everywhere, Kurt."

Typical run length gauged, he handed the phone back. "Maybe not the best idea."

She swatted his backside, annoyed he was messing with her runs; her _sanity_. "I can kick your ass - I sure as hell can kick someone else's if I have to."

"No." He shook his head, her train of thought different than what he meant. "You could be revealing your location."

Dammit, she just wanted to get out the door. "I have everything marked private. And it alerts you if I don't come back." Sure, give him something else to worry about.

He shrugged. "Consider talking to Patterson about it. The company is still collecting your location and might be a security risk."

Agent Weller was talking when she was looking to spend time with husband Kurt. She couldn't fault him, as it wasn't like she had an off switch either, but she needed her time outside. "Stop. Calling nope here." She pointed at the door. "I just want to run. That's how I can even do those missions."

Their shared note for _let it be_ voiced, he raised his hands by his side and stopped for the time being. "So how many miles today?"

"Kuuuuurt!" She shooed him out the door.

* * *

Occasionally running together on break during the workday, it didn't take long for word of their 10K preparations to make its way around the NYO. Rich wanted to corner the gossip on the subject. "Are you on Team Weller or Team Doe?" Rich asked Patterson while poring through digital evidence in the lab.

"They're the same team!" Patterson retorted.

"C'mon, this is too good an opportunity to pass up." Her eyes tore through him, imagining skewering him to the computer and gagging him so he would shut the hell up a few minutes so she could work. "Okay, I'm Team Doe, which means you're Team Weller. Prepare to pay up."

What kind of skewers: wooden, metal, lacquer? Patterson shook her head in dissent. "Rich, we're not doing this."

He pushed on, the topic too juicy to let go. "One hundred dollars. If you win, I'll stop calling you Patty Cakes."

A muzzle, maybe? No, he would enjoy that too much. "You are not going to make it through many more rounds of calling me that."

"C'mon, we need something silly to break up the shit around here."

Pounding a few keys to lock her computer, she faced him in frustration. "Why do you care so much?"

Finally having her attention, his arm movements mimed his enthusiasm. "It's my favorite tag team duo! Back and better than ever."

She couldn't argue with needing a diversion. This did hit the lower end of the Rich annoyingness scale; perhaps the punishment could be saved for later. Tipping her finger at his face, she bartered, "One hundred dollars to charity of choice, you drop the name, and _silence_ in my lab for a week."

Mind shouting yes, yes, yes, _yes!_, his face remained stern. "Fine. Deal."

They shook on it and returned to pattering away on their keyboards.

* * *

There were some days running wasn't particularly appealing. Kurt stayed burrowed under the comforter, bundled up over his head. "Kurt, I'm ready to go," Jane explained, putting her hand on what she assumed was his shoulder.

Grumbles from within were muffled by the blankets. "Don't want to."

The previous night, he had brought out the scotch after a particularly tough day arguing with a grating suspect in interrogation for hours. She had given him his space, opting to sketch in the living room while he sulked in the den. It was late and she was already sleeping when he had retired to bed, sliding in beside her. "Because you drank too much yesterday?"

He had spent more time thinking than drinking. "No."

She took the covers off of his head. "Then let's go. This'll help you feel better."

His pouty frown inspired laughter instead of retreat. She shared a stare of her own, her legs restless to get going. "You want to win, remember? Pot's up over a thousand for charity."

His eyes focused on her face, tracing from her brow to along her jaw. "That's the look you give uncooperative suspects."

Resting her hands on her hips, she shifted her weight to one leg. "Seems to fit the bill."

"Oh, I'm gonna." He swung out of bed and chased her across the room.

She threw his shorts, shirt, and socks at him before getting caught in his tickling embrace. "Put those on - let's go."

By the time they made it to their cool down, he shared his words of thanks for dragging him out, and when she had cleaned up for breakfast, a jelly smiley face was waiting for her on top of peanut buttered rice cakes.

* * *

On the weekend, they ran deep into the park following the sweet scent of lilac. Many bushes were at or near bloom, and she looked for signs of other flowers perking while they ran, smiling anew with each different one encountered. Jane came out the other side of the park scratching her stomach and back over her shirt. Why did running come with unintended consequences?

"What is it?" Kurt asked, eyeing her discomfort.

She kept rubbing at her shirt. "I think I'm allergic to something on the route."

His attention drew more to her than the route in front of them. "Do you want to stop?"

That was an easy head shake. "No - I'll take Benadryl when I get home."

Her fingernails dug into her shirt. "Stop scratching."

"Easy for you to say."

When they got home, the shower jets cooled the pink bumps that had emerged in patches on her skin. Slathering what she could reach in hydrocortisone and taking Benadryl, she tucked in for an early afternoon nap. Perhaps that would bring her more relaxing headspace than the day's run. So much for the flowers.

* * *

What had started as Jane's low key entry to the Bureau 10K was turning into quite the todo. Their whole team had contributed to the pot, investing in their success. When Jane stayed in the lab to review a few findings from Rich, he asked, "Does my Janie need any help with training? Nutrition, massage..."

Could he be any more annoying? Well, yes, yes he could. She shook her head and kept her attention on the papers in front of her. "Rich, you're gonna lose your head."

"This is a high stakes game! I'm close to adding over unders on your race times."

Oh _gosh_, _enough_. She was glad their friendly competition would turn into a big win for a local organization, yet there were still a few months until the race. For the time being, finishing up at the lab would mean she could go home to the oatmeal bath calling her name. "Peace and quiet. That's what I need."

Pssh, why did everyone want the lab to be quiet? Electric energy helped him think. He bowed to her. "Your wish is my command, milady."

Her glare drove him from the room.


	2. Chapter 2

How in the world had this happened? Kurt hadn't foreseen his day starting with clutching the walls for lifeblood, grasping every nook and crevice to get to the living room. Urging himself to stay quiet and painfully lowering to the couch, needing both of his hands to swing his leg up. Pulling every pillow within reach to prop it up. Breathing heavily from the exertion.

Pain. Fiery, pulsing, omigod I'm not going to make it another step style pain. Although he'd gotten off his feet, the pain still radiated through his leg. Blindly reaching toward the epicenter, he found his knee super puffy and stopped - fuck, that hurt.

He dry swallowed ibuprofen and sat quietly, trying to will his knee to stop throbbing. Was this from the takedown? He hadn't jumped the guy that hard. Blocking the suspect's kick? He hadn't felt a crunch or anything like that then, either. Running with Jane? He was out of practice, sure, but they hadn't gone particularly strenuous. Plus, he was getting better at it, his legs bothering him less after a few weeks. He couldn't think of anything that justified his level of pain.

Checking his phone, he acknowledged he had two hours to get this under control before they had to leave for work. Ice - he needed ice. Why hadn't he thought of that on the way? He grunted back to standing and hobbled to the refrigerator. Retrieving the icepack from the freezer and pulling the dishtowel from the counter, he stared toward the couch. Damn - that was a long way back.

He repeated the process of propping his leg up and nestled the ice pack around his knee. He occupied himself trying to figure out what he had done until he was reclaimed by sleep.

* * *

Mmm, fingers brushing through his hair, running along his scalp. Drifting across his jaw and curling behind his neck. A soft kiss on his forehead. "C'mon, sleepybear," a voice coaxed him from sleep. Another lap through his hair. "Kurt, it's time to wake up."

His eyes opened and his half smile turned to grimace when he tried to move. He shut his eyes again, trying to gather himself. "What is it?" Jane asked, running her thumb across his hairline.

Torture, malevolent fire-breathing... "My knee's acting up. Just give me a minute, and I'll get up."

That much was obvious from the ice pack. She was hoping for a bit more. "Do you want some help?"

"No - you go on ahead and shower. I'll go next."

Knowing when it came to pain, she needed to respect his wishes until he was ready, she left him with a kiss and ruffle of his hair.

Alone again, he tested sitting up and slowly pushed to his feet. He shuffled to return the icepack and leaned against the breakfast bar. What had he done? He couldn't bend his leg and putting any weight on it burned a fire that threatened him calling out. Making the long trek back to the bedroom, he set out his clothes for the day.

Hearing the shower shut off, Kurt propped himself outside the bathroom door, waiting for Jane to emerge. When she did, they traded, Jane keeping a close eye as he limped into the bathroom. "You're not looking so good," she voiced as he moved to close the door.

"I'll be out soon."

Jane dressed and went in search of the crutches they kept in the back of Bethany's closet. The crutches had saved them a few times when one or the other was left hobbling. Convincing her husband to use them was another story.

She swapped their morning roles and quickly made scrambled eggs for Kurt and downed a vegan coconut yogurt with granola. The shower shut off and Kurt's growl of pain made it to the kitchen.

Jane hurried back to the bathroom and heard another grunt through the door. "Kurt, I can help," she offered, willing him to try something other than pure stubbornness.

He tried to take a step toward the door and crunched into the towel bar, his knee collapsing beneath him. Gathering a few breaths, he reached for the lifeline. "Come in."

She opened the door and found him with a towel around his waist, leaning all of his weight into the towel bar. She brought the crutches in and set them against the wall next to him. "I'm going to push you up, then you need to take the crutches so I can help you go sit."

"I don't know what's wrong," he grumbled, accepting her help.

She pushed him back to standing and slowly guided him into the bedroom and onto the bed. Getting him sitting gave her a chance to survey the situation. "Kurt, your knee is twice the size!" she chided.

"I woke up like this." He took a few deep breaths, focusing on breathing to collect himself. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to run later."

At the moment, that was the least of her worries. She looked closer, trying to ascertain if there was any bruising. He clutched her wrist before she could touch his knee. "Can I take you to the clinic, please?"

He had resigned to that when he couldn't make it out of the bathroom on his own. He sighed - he just wanted to go to work. "Yes. I need pants first."

"I made you eggs too."

"I'll take those while I rest here a few minutes." He needed energy before he tried moving again.

She squeezed his hand. "Be right back."

* * *

Multiple tests and most of the day later, Jane brought Kurt home without a diagnosis. The doctor suspected some type of trauma or infection, yet was waiting on test results to confirm. Kurt sat on the couch with his leg cushioned in pillows, Jane taking his chair nearby.

Meandering through the possible scenarios that could have injured her husband, none of them made sense. She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it away from her face. "You were fine yesterday. I don't get what's going on."

"I don't either. The doctor wasn't super helpful." He stretched his arms above his head.

"Can I do anything to help you get more comfortable?"

There was one thing he thought might bring him some relief. "Can you help me into the tub? I'd like to soak."

"You mean I actually get to draw you a bath for once?" She could count on one hand how many times she had fixed him a bath, and he had pulled her in with him for most of them.

"Shh. This better not mean you win." He had worked too damn hard running to lose his progress. Whatever this was, he hoped for quick resolution.

She got up, palmed his cheek, and kissed his forehead. "I'm gonna win fair and square, not by technicality."

Jane pulled away to head to the bathroom, and Kurt caught her hand, having seen something of interest. "The rash is on your hand now?" he noted, carefully running his thumb over a small patch of pink bumps on the back of her hand.

Given his day, it seemed inconsequential. "Yeah. And a bit on my legs. Dermatologist appointment end of the week."

He inspected it closely. "Does it hurt?"

"No - just a bit itchy. Not a big deal _mister my knee blew up overnight_." She squeezed his hand. "I'll go start that bath for you."

Leaving him resting in the tub, at his urging, she went for a run, lifting the weight of her concerns with the gentle breeze brushing over her shoulders. Relishing her first solo run in a while, she made her way past azaleas and violets, looking amongst the flowers for any emergence of new insects.


	3. Chapter 3

Patterson was working diligently in the lab when Rich came racing in, a trail of energy following behind him. "You won't believe what took down the mighty Agent Weller," Rich spilled.

Not again. "Rich, leave the guy alone."

He bubbled over with the learned information. "He has _lyme_ disease!"

Patterson considered the diagnosis. "Fits the suddenness of his symptoms. A bit more pain than expected at onset, yet that's evened out on him now."

Rich shook his head in a tsk tsk. "Not for nothing, but Jane's gotta do a better check for ticks."

Patterson's scorn carried across the room. "Weller can look for his own ticks."

"This will impact your winnings chances."

"Nah - he'll bounce right back."

"Might slow his race time."

"There's plenty of time to make up for the week off."

"I thought you weren't into this," he caught her deep into their banter.

"Well, you're into it, so I took interest," she covered.

"Sure. You want to win _miss no, Rich_."

Patterson buried her head in her monitor. "That is not a thing."

"Oh, but it could be."

She clicked her keys a bit harder. "_Fine_. I want to win a little bit."

"Might want to give the big guy proper tick hunting instruction."

"Rich..."

"Give him a tick nipper. Socks on top of pants, though I never was a fan of that fashion statement."

"Rich!" He stopped and looked at her. "Go back to work."

"A protective hat?"

At her throw of a stress ball across the room, he cut his losses and returned to the tattoo he was analyzing.

After starting antibiotics, Kurt's knee swelling reduced, and he was was able to lose the crutches quickly. His first day back out running, Jane joked, "We'll do a shorter distance today for the old man," which earned her a nudge in return. She was glad he was feeling better. "I saw butterflies near the old factory if you want to go down there."

"Sure."

They ran alongside each other, Jane guiding them via her mental map.

"Did you get any faster in the week without me?" Kurt asked.

She shook her head. "Doubt it. Focusing on distance over speed."

"Maybe I have a chance then." Kurt smiled.

"You're doing fine."

"Want to make a friendly wager between the two of us?" Kurt offered.

Jane kept her attention on the sidewalk in front of her. "If you finish, I'll give you a massage. You're probably going to need it."

"If you win, I'll make you a special request dinner."

"If you win, I'll get you one of those fancy chocolate bars you'll never put in the basket."

"Deal." They smiled at each other.

Jane shared the obvious. "You realize we'd do any of those things for each other right now."

"Yeah, but it's still fun to play. Between us, okay? There's enough carrying on in the office."

"Oh, yeah."

He kept running, glancing around as the world passed by. "You promised me butterflies."

"Keep going, old man."

She narrowly missed his swat at her ass.

Fresh out of the shower, Jane opened a tube of cream and applied it to the patches on her arms. "Want some help with that? I'll do your back."

She gave him the tube and he started taking care of her back. "This looks pretty raw," he noted.

"Yeah. Got me good."

"Don't you think you might want to go back to the doctor?"

Jane shrugged. "Hasn't been enough days using the cream yet."

She didn't know what had caused the rash, and the dermatologist had explained she could consider allergy testing as a follow up. While they ran, she kept taking mental note of the trees and plants they passed on the route, thinking if she got itchier again, she might be able to narrow the cause.

He closed the tube and she thanked him with a kiss. "Shower's all yours. I'm going to lay down."

"Dinner?"

"I'm beat. If I'm out, please go ahead without me."

Running in the humidity was awful. Sweat poured down Kurt's face, causing him to repeatedly brush it from his eyes and sweep it behind his ears. His footfalls felt slower thudding into the concrete, inhibited by the heat and threat of a storm. When their building came into view, he breathed a sigh of relief. Air conditioning.

Once inside, Jane's first words were, "I'm really cold."

What? Goosebumps flecked up her arm, yet her face matched his, doused in sweat. "Jane, I'm cooking."

She rubbed her arms, trying to warm them. "Need a shower."

"Go - I'll make our shakes."

She beelined for the bathroom, where she ripped her t-shirt and wet sports bra over her head. "Ahh."

Between her covering fingers, a small patch of skin was missing from her side under her armpit. Jane's eyes stayed on her side, lost in the reds and yellows. "What the?"

Grabbing toilet paper and pressing it to the sore, she stopped its oozing. She angled toward the mirror, trying to get a better view. How did that happen?

Shivering, she continued to the shower.

Several days later, the alarm blared to rouse them for a morning of running. Jane sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her movement revealed the sheets she had been laying on. "Jane, wait," Kurt caught her elbow, keeping her in bed.

She met his gaze and followed his eyes to the brown-spotted bed sheets. "It's your back," Kurt shared.

She felt her back, feeling a few crusted spots on her t-shirt. Her fingers slid under her shirt and pulled it away from a section of skin, air escaping her lips with the pain. "There's more - let me help."

He slowly peeled away her shirt from the other spots and helped the t-shirt over her head, getting a look at her back. "No way this is contact dermatitis."

"Show me."

He led her to the bathroom and she grabbed a handheld mirror from the drawer. Angling in front of the wall mirror, she looked at her back. "Shit."

"Did you scratch?"

"No."

"I'll clean them for you. Any sores anywhere else?"

She looked down her legs and across her stomach. "No, I don't think so."

"Let's get you back to the dermatologist." His last attempt had ended in deflection, and he didn't want to accept "no" for an answer this time.

Kurt helped her dress the sores. She eased into a loose flannel shirt and lounge pants and waited to hear when they would be going to the doctor.

Finding the dermatologist unavailable, Kurt took Jane to the clinic instead. After taking a look at Jane's back and noting a fever, they were redirected to the emergency room to test for infections. "If the dermatologist was available, we wouldn't be going to the ER," she complained.

"It is what it is now. C'mon."

"You're just trying to get out of running."

He guided his arm around her as if she might be the one to start running. "C'mon."

In the ER, flannel was replaced with a hospital gown, and Jane appeared much smaller on the bed, swimming under the sheet and blanket. Her arm a pincushion for the many tests they wanted to perform, they were left to wait for results. All Kurt could do was monitor her fever and tend to any additional sores that opened.

A stint at the hospital took a detour into day two when the doctors didn't get any closer to what was wrong. Jane slid out of bed on her side and headed for the bathroom. Where she had rubbed against the bed at her hip, more skin had sloughed off.

"We need to call Patterson," Jane called from the bathroom.


End file.
